PJO Drabbles and Oneshots
by wood painted flesh
Summary: Percabeth one-shots and drabbles. Some other pairings, maybe. Fluff.
1. A Particular Color, A Little Lost

**A Particular Color**

Percy had always liked the color blue. Everyone who knew him knew it. It had been an inside joke with his mother years ago, but became more than that when he had been separated from his family and friends. It became his comfort.

But now he feels like his favorite color wasn't really his favorite anymore. Because when he saw Annabeth after she stepped off that flying warship with strangers, he decided that gray was the color. And when they finally came and crashed their lips together, he couldn't help but smile because for once in a long time, he had been happy.

When they pulled away, he couldn't help but get lost in those gray orbs. He wanted to tell her that he couldn't stop thinking of her the first thing in the morning and the last thing at night. But then the Romans and the Greeks merged into one huge crowd, and he never had the chance.

_Besides,_ he thought. _It sounds like a cliché__ from somewhere._

But it was one hundred percent true.

**A Little Lost**

Rachel Elizabeth Dare had never really been good at making friends. Only when they heard who her father was, was she accepted into a clique. At least until she met Percy Jackson. Although, she never did expect to fall in love with a monster-slaying boy who called himself a son of an old sea god. I mean, _what? Really?_

She especially never think she would _ever_ try to comfort her friend's new girlfriend, Annabeth Chase. The two of them had a bad history. But weirdly enough, ever since Rachel had become the Oracle, they seemed to get along swell.

And here she was, trying to help her new friend cope with the loss of Percy Jackson, savior of Olympus. Annabeth had always seemed like the one who knew how to handle things. Like she was in charge. But here she was, in shambles, mourning her missing boyfriend. Rachel barely had enough time to comprehend _how _or _why _this had happened herself.

"You know," Annabeth sniffed, "Everyone's been saying how I don't even care."

"They don't understand what you're hiding," Rachel answered. "But I do. And I'm here. Besides, _somebody_ has to seem sane if we're going to find that idiotic boyfriend of yours, right?"

The comment had meant to cheer Annabeth up. But the blonde only nodded and whispered, "I lost my smile and I can't remember how to laugh. I'm sorry."

Rachel gave her a sad smile. "You haven't lost your smile. It's right under your nose. You just forgot how to use it. C'mon, let's go change that."


	2. Jealousy,BeautifullyImperfect,Forgetting

**Jealousy**

Annabeth was jealous. She had come to Goode to surprise Percy. He was staying after school for swim practice, because of course, fighting monsters wasn't a good enough sport for him. When she walked through the doors to the pool, what she saw in front of her made her want to rip her heart out. Girls were swarming around the pool. Around _Percy._ Of course, other girls were around the other members of the swim team, but she wasn't focused on _them._ Percy looked highly uncomfortable, which lightened Annabeth's mood a bit.

Then Percy made the mistake of getting out of the pool. Every girl tried to give him a hug. And he almost _let them_. Almost. Annabeth let out a huge coughed and he noticed her standing at the door and grinned. He pushed past them and started toward her.

He opened his arms and scooped her up into a hug. He twirled and she laughed. Mostly because of the looks on the other girls' faces.

"Hey, Seaweed Brain," she murmured.

He smirked. "Were you jealous?"

"_No._" She tried not to sound as in denial as she really was.

But his grin grew. "_I_ think _Annabeth Chase_ was jealous."

"Not as jealous as you will be when you find out that your swimming buddies were checking me out while you were being smothered by those girls."

And this time, it was Annabeth who smirked.

**Beautifully Imperfect**

Percy gingerly touched the scar on Annabeth's upper arm. She was aware, but she didn't stop him. He was fascinated by it. After all, it did save his life during the Second Titan War. He'd wondered about it many times after. He wanted to make sure it was still there. Most people found scars horribly disturbing and repulsive, but to Percy, they meant something. And on Annabeth, they were beautiful. He gently pressed his lips to the mark. Her face felt hot.

"Percy, it's just a scar. An old wound. Why are you all over it?"

He looked up at her and stared. "It was the wound that almost took my life. Another reminder of you saving my sorry butt. It's my favorite memory." He replied after a while.

She scoffed. "Why would it be your favorite?"

"It reminds me that we're a team. One hundred percent a team."

She covered the blemish with her shirt sleeve, still blushing. But she smiled anyway, "Don't look at it. It makes me feel insecure."

"Hasn't _Hannah Montana_ taught you anything? Nobody's perfect!"

Her smile grew soft. "Imperfection is what I do best."

"_Beautiful_ imperfection."

**Forgetting**

It has been five minutes since Annabeth stepped off that ship. Only _five freaking minutes_ and he feels like exploding because he hasn't had the change to _actually _talk to her. Just the two of them. He's relieved when she pulls him away from the crowd, navigating the roads of New Rome like she's been living there all her life. They find their way to a small garden with a dried up fountain and dead grass. They place themselves onto the little stone bench. They just sat there, breathing each other in, but the silence wasn't uncomfortable.

Annabeth couldn't help but notice that Percy's shoulders had become broader since she last saw him. She could see his arm muscles clearer now, and that's not because he was wearing a toga. His hair had become darker, if possible, and more reckless than before. His eyes were brighter, more bold and fierce. Almost barbarous and bloodthirsty. But she noticed the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and she knew that he hasn't changed.

Percy couldn't help notice that Annabeth's hair was longer, a little less curly, but his favorite princess curls were still there. He used to pull on them and watch them bounce back into place. It used to irritate her, but deep down she loved when he did that. He could see that she had lost a little weight, and for a moment he panicked. He knew it was probably from the worry and stress for the last six months. Her eyes had become duller as well. He felt guilty. Oh so guilty.

He placed both of hands on her shoulders and spun her around so that she was facing him. He pulled her onto his lap and hugged her tightly. She immediately wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him back. She wanted to hug him for a really, really long time. She was surprised to find tears spilling from her eyes and cried softly into his neck. He pulled her away and quickly wiped the tears away.

"You never forgot?" She asked, her voice hoarse.

"You're not very easy to forget."


	3. Tragedy, Little Things

**Tragedy ~MOA SPOILERS~**

They were falling and falling and falling. Percy was beneath her, weighing more than her.

He then wrapped his arms around her, shielding her from the falling debris. Annabeth knew he was just being thoughtful and she appreciated it, but she didn't want him getting hurt. Especially when they hit the ground. _If_ they did. They had been falling for what seemed like days.

The ground found them, but it wasn't a hard landing. They weren't dead. They were as close to alive as you could be in Tartarus.

They'd both landed with a groan. Even though he'd taken worse of the fall, he got to his feet first and pulled her up.

"_Oof," _she cried out as she stood on her bad ankle.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "Easy," he told her gently.

"Why are we so unlucky all the time?"

He let out a small laugh. "Some people are born with tragedy in their blood."

She huffed. "Yeah. Us."

"We're demigods. We were built for this. Now let's get going. We have to save the world. _Again._"

**Little Things (Songfic-ish)**

It amazes me how your hand fits in mine perfectly – like it was molded just for me.

_And how mine was molded just for you._

I know you've never loved the dimples in your back at the bottom of your spine, but I'll love them endlessly.

_I guess we both have a weak spot._

And when you go to bed after a cup of tea, you talk in your sleep. And even though all those conversations never really made any sense to me, I love them anyway.

_And I hope you feel the same when I drool in _my _sleep._

You should learn to love yourself as much as I love you because it's _you. _And you're absolutely perfect to me. And I hope this doesn't embarrass you, but I've just let all these little things slip out of my mouth. Because I'm in love with you and all your little things.


	4. All Over Again, All Lies, Failure

****_These are more on the darker side. Sorry for not updating in a while. Hope you guys like these ones._

_x wpf_

* * *

**All Over Again**

After he'd told me to run, to _get out,_ and I'd kissed him, I instantly regretted it. I left him there to die. He was the hero, and I was the coward, naturally. When I walked through the narrow fissure in the rocks of Zeus's Fist, I was nearly unrecognizable. My hair was a bird's nest; my body was covered in grime and soot from my experience in Hephaestus's Forges. I was scraped and bloody from head to toe. And I must have looked a little insane when I squinted from the bright light of the sun and tripped over air. I was bombarded with questions: "Annabeth, you look like death, what happened? Where are Percy and Grover and Tyson? Did you find Luke?" The silence they'd received in return must've made them anxious, but Chiron waved them all off, slung me over his shoulder and took off towards the Infirmary. I'd been out for three days, they'd said.

It was nearly two weeks since I left Percy and Grover and Tyson in the Labyrinth and no sign of any of them when the guilt began eating me alive, but more so for Percy. There was no one there for me anymore, or at least, I wouldn't let them in. I didn't trust anyone anymore. It was my father first, and then it was Thalia, Luke and finally, Percy. There was no one there, nothing but dust.

But only _he_ would interrupt his own funeral. He returned and I was _beyond ecstatic, _but I had a hard time showing it. I was angry and upset on the outside but on the inside all I thought was, _Seaweed Brain Seaweed Brain Seaweed Brain!_

It was a long year and a half and a long, unforgettable battle. Percy and I had gotten together after he'd been titled The Savior of Olympus, a shared blue cupcake and an underwater kiss. And I couldn't have been happier. But you never really got a happy ending when you were a demigod.

And now Hera has taken Percy and his memories and has left me with nothing. It felt exactly like the time he went missing for two weeks, only I didn't feel sad or guilty; I was filled with animosity. It was like a bomb was planted inside of me, waiting to explode. The heat inside was built on heartache and distress.

It was warm when Percy Jackson was around. Now it's cold.

Every so often I can hardly remember the sound of Percy's voice or the awkward rhythm in his walk and . . . I was losing him all over again.

* * *

**All Lies**

Sally Jackson could not have been more heartbroken than the time when Percy found out the secrets. He'd looked right into her eyes, his big and watery and full of disbelief.

"Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving, _The Tooth Fairy_—all lies!" He stomped his feet like the seven year old he was. She wasn't expecting him to stop believing this early; it was Gabe who'd told him the truth. She hated to see him suffer but if only he knew she'd married him to protect him.

But when he half-shouted, half-asked, "What else are you hiding?" She couldn't help but break down, her heart torn in two. She'd looked right into his eyes and apologized about four million times, "Nothing, baby. Nothing," she'd reassured him, but it sounded like it was more for her than for him. "Nothing."

* * *

**Failure**

Thalia trudged up the muddy hill where her tree stood with the Fleece hanging from its branches, guarded by the growing dragon Peleus. There was something new hanging from its spiny branch: Luke's now dead flying shoes. They'd somehow found their way back to camp from Tartarus after the Battle of Manhattan.

Some days she forgot to miss him for hours at a time and she doesn't hate him for dying anymore, but she wished he had said goodbye, at least. She wished she could've had one last conversation with him where they weren't at each other's throats. She wished she'd told him just how much she loved him so long ago and maybe hold his hand one last time.

And she would do everything she could to hear him say them back to her.

Instead she stared at the worn down shoes and said, "Between the anger and the hollow words we will never share I wonder if I am your greatest failure. Or you, mine."


	5. Demon, Perfect

**Demon**

It's been years since I was able to sleep peacefully at night. I've developed a sort of OCD since we—Annabeth and I—had returned from that hell hole. Literally, hell. I've always checked up with her, ensured her safety before my day started and before it ended. We've both changed after that traumatic experience. We were never the same people. Others have noticed this, too. Our reputations and titles have been changed from _Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase the Saviors of Olympus_ to _Percy Jackson_ _and Annabeth Chase, Tartarus Survivors _or my favorite, _The Crazies._ The two of us still have a little bit of that pit in us. Like a demon eating at us from the inside out. I'm beginning to believe that Gaia's plan was to mortify us beyond humanly possible rather than for our blood to spill.

They told us that someday things will be different. That it would be the same as before. That someday we would understand. I'm beginning to lose faith. I'm not the only one. People, who have reassured us this, are beginning to give up as well.

It's when you hold eye contact for that second too long or maybe the way you laugh. It sets off a flash and our memories take a picture of who we are at that point when we first know "This is love."

And we clutch that picture to our hearts because we expect each other to always be the people in that picture. But people change. People aren't pictures. And you can either take a new picture or throw the old one away.

And so I'll stay reasonable; the sun doesn't shine every goddamned day. So accept what you can't change.

Gaia, I was afraid of your words, your fists, and your laughter. I'm 28 now and still scared as hell. You just gave it a name.

**Perfect**

My boyfriend can be slow and inarticulate and maybe even mentally imbalanced, but that's not the point. He can actually be practically a genius and extremely charismatic at times. Sometimes I wonder what he even sees in me. He could have had anyone—_anyone_—an Aphrodite girl with perfect, golden skin, long perfect legs, and a big chest. But he chose an Athena kid—_me_—who is wise way beyond her years, who has had dreams of becoming an architect at the age of twelve. Most twelve year olds don't even know what architecture _is._ I often feel like he can find someone better than me.

So today I asked him, "How can I possibly be enough for you?"

And he said, "How could I possibly want more?"

"Well, I—uh, I mean there are tons of girls that are way prettier than I will ever be. And then there's the small portion where I'm the biggest nerd in the—" I was cut off by the look Percy was giving me. He looked at me as if he were seeing an alien. "What?"

His face broke into a grin. "Annabeth, I'm going to warn you now; you brought this onto yourself." I looked at him, confused, which made his grin spread wider. He took my hand in his and got down on one knee. His palms were sweaty and I'm sure mine were the same. I took my other hand and covered my smile.

He exhaled. "Annabeth Chase, I'm drawn to you like a magnet, I swear. You're gorgeous, perfect in every way. No one will ever be compared to you. Ever." Being in the middle of Camp Half-Blood, a crowd began to form. "Everyone here," his hand swept over the crowd, "said that I couldn't do this. That I was a coward. It's true; I've been putting off this moment for three days. But you know what they say, 'The greatest pleasure in life is doing what others say you cannot do.' And so Annabeth Chase, I, Perseus Jackson, am asking for your hand in marriage. I can give you millions of reasons why. You make my day brighter, this awful and traumatic knowledge that something like Tartarus exists bearable. You're what keeps me on my feet. Hell, you even make breathing look magical.

"They say that history repeats itself, and I would do anything in my power for you not to ever experience something as awful as we did a few years ago. But maybe this time, if we hold perfectly still, I won't have to. Maybe something new will happen. Besides that, I wouldn't be who I am today. I probably wouldn't even _be_ here today."

I was pretty much blubbering like a baby at this point. And when he finally pulled out the ring, I collapsed in the dirt in front of him. He was laughing and planting kisses on my face and stroking my hair all while he slid the ring on my left hand. I was shaking uncontrollably as he took me into his arms and rubbed my back. The crowd—which had turned into the entire camp populace from just a small group—roared from all around us.

I guess this was already a given, but. . .

_I said yes._


	6. Wedding Bells, Protective, Sever

_I need to apologize for being a really bad updater._

* * *

**Wedding Bells (_this is for guest_****)**

So today is the big day. Today I begin to understand what love must be, if it exists. When we are parted, we each feel the lack of the other half of ourselves. We are incomplete like a book in two volumes of which the first has been lost. That is what I imagine love to be. "Incompleteness in absence." Every woman, on this day, craves perfection. I'm not going to lie, but—even though I am a man—I agree with them. It's kind of a big deal. But being a demigod has taught me that not everything becomes a fairytale.

So of course I'm going to worry. What if Annabeth doesn't really love me? What if she only agreed to marry me because the proposal happened to be in front of the entire camp and she didn't want to humiliate me? What if she only dated me at all because I gave up immortality for her? What if she only kissed me at Mount St. Helens because she thought I was going to die and she pitied me? It's the ADHD that's getting to me, I hope.

So when I brought this up to Grover, he looked at me, bewildered. "Are you kidding me?" He told me. "If she loves you, if she really loves you, you'll know it. If you can wake up to her staring at you and it's not even mildly creepy, if you catch her smelling the shoulder of the hooded sweatshirt you lent her for an autumn walk at the beach, if she makes you a pancake in the shape of a shark, if she calls you drunkenly at four in the morning 'to talk,' if she laughs at your jokes when they're funny and makes fun of you when they're not, if she keeps her fridge stocked with Guinness tallboys for when you come over, if she tells you how she wishes she were closer to her brothers and that her dad makes her sad: She loves you, of course she loves you."

So maybe I _am_ a little clueless. Obtuse, as Annabeth says. I can hear the church bells ringing in the distance and I hope I can do this without puking.

* * *

**Protective****(**_I apologize to __annabethchase999__ for not doing this one sooner. Set before TLO._**)**

She was sitting with someone else. Someone else. Not _me_. She invited _me_ to see the fireworks with her, not Connor Stoll. I feel betrayed and a bit threatened. Did she think Connor was better than me? Was I being _used?_ Doesn't she know what she does to me? That she makes my heart beat faster with just a glance my way? Gods, I'm a mess. It's just fireworks. It's not like she'll fall in love with the guy . . . right?

Wrong. He's going in for a kiss. No, no, no, no, no. I can't let this happen. She'll fall in love with Connor Stoll and she'll stop hanging around me and I won't ever get to see her. She'll stop being my best friend. I'll miss her when something really good happens, because she is the one I want to share it with. I'll miss her when something is troubling me, because she is the one who understands me so well. I'll miss her when I laugh and cry because I know that she is the one that makes my laughter grow and my tears disappear. I'll miss her all the time, but I'll miss her most when I lay awake at night and think of all the wonderful times we won't get to spend with each other.

My mom used to tell me to never give up on the people you can't go a day without thinking about. And that's exactly what I'm going to do. So I get up from my spot on the beach and run over to them.

"Hey, Annabeth!" I say to her as I plop down into the sand next to her. I throw an arm around her shoulders lazily and look over at Connor. "What'chya guys doing?" I feel Annabeth tense under me.

Connor glares daggers at me. "Nothing anymore."

I feign surprise. "Was I interrupting something?"

"Percy, I think you'd better leave." Annabeth sighs.

"Me?"

"_Yes, _Percy. Otherwise, I'm afraid you are about to become the past president of the Being Alive Club." She glares at me.

"Ha-ha. Can I talk to you for a second? Please," I beg, "It's important."

She shoots an apologized look at Connor. "Be right back." I stand up first and hold a hand out to her, but she pushes herself up and brushes past me. I turn around to follow her off the beach, my outstretched hand reaching to rub the back of my neck. I've never felt more confused in my life before.

She stops abruptly, causing me to bump into her. She takes a deep breath. "Percy, why do you have to ruin everything?"

What? "I uh, I wanted to know why you ditched me. Katie helped me pick out flowers for you and everything. You never showed."

Her gaze softened. "Perce, I know, and I really am sorry. It's just that Connor came to me after Capture the Flag and told me he really liked me and he wanted me to go with him. His friends were waiting for him and he had the courage to ask me in front of them."

"You didn't think twice about how _I _felt?" I suddenly felt angry. She should have known. Wasn't it obvious enough?

She huffed. "Why should I? _I _had to ask _you! _It shouldn't work that way Percy."

So I'm the coward. I'm an idiot. I wish I'd just drop dead and start clean. When I didn't respond, she just rolled her eyes and brushed past me. My eyes remained trained on the ground. Forget this love thing . . . I'd rather fall in chocolate.

I think we like to complicate things when it is really quite simple; find what it is that makes you happy and who it is that makes you happy, and you're set. Promise.

* * *

**Sever  
**

_[camera crackles and flashes; it's on]_

It's been four days since we defeated Gaia and her giants. The battle was a hard one. Several of us were critically injured. So badly, that we had to take them back to the Camp Half-Blood Infirmary. It would have been too suspicious to go to any hospital. But I don't think anyone was as severely damaged as Annabeth was. From her lone quest in the chambers of Arachne to Tartarus to the Giant War, her bad ankle had gotten remotely worse. It had caught an infection and spread through her leg . . . the Apollo cabin ended up having to—to amputate it. From the knee cap down, she has a prosthetic leg. I haven't been able to see her. I'm on my way now, actually. They said she needed a little bit more rest, but I just can't—_can't_ go another day without hearing from her. _Her_ voice, not Will's.

_[camera shifts. a door creaks open. camera focuses on the dirty sneakers shuffling on the dark floor of the Infirmary. a slight snore can be heard. camera shifts again and focuses on the girl with blonde hair on a bed.]_

Hey, Beth.

_[a hand creeps up from the corner of the screen and pats the girl on the shoulder. screen fuzzes. girl shifts so that she's facing the voice behind the camera; she smiles slightly.]_

Percy. What are you doing here?

Visiting you. Why else?

_[camera shuffles and focuses on the ice in the glass on the bedside table.]_

Sorry . . . I'm slightly high on pain killers. What's with the camera?

I'm filming you. I'm going to call it _Annabeth's Second Attempt at Her First Steps._

_[camera__crackles and the moving picture spins. camera focuses on the boy with dark hair and the girl with blonde hair sitting on a bed.]_

Don't film me. I'm not looking my best lately.

Beth, you are always beautiful in my eyes.

I never said I wasn't _beautiful_, I said I wasn't _looking my best_.

Gods, that smile will never get old. Every day I am with you and I see you smile makes me believe this is the reason I am here.

_[the girl pushes him slightly.]_

You're a big cheeseball.

_[the boy only smiles and reaches over to push the button on the top of the camera. the screen goes dark.]_

* * *

_Lemme know if you guys want more of_ **Sever.**_ I will happily continue it._


	7. Fallen, Remorse

**Fallen**

Dawn was just about to break and the subdued rays of morning light were finally spreading across the sky. I was taking my time, strolling through the bustling scene of the early hours. The clamor hurt my ears. Angry shouts rang from the main street, while flirts could be heard in the alleys. I avoided the hubbub on my way. Just being in a foul place like this made me remember the life I'd led.

The place reminded me so much of Manhattan, which terrified me, because knowing that I may never get to forget that city terrifies me. That's why I try not to think about it. I tell myself, _Don't think_. Don't freaking think, because when you think you realize just how screwed up everything really is. You realize you don't know how you got where you are, you don't know where you're going and you don't know what to do anymore. You don't know why you were chosen to be the Prophecy kid or why _you_ were the hero and not the next guy.

I sit, I tire, and I collapse. When I'm staring into the darkness, I find myself somehow entranced by it. Suddenly, I hear laughter. Fearless, mean, and yet kind. It calls to me. The days we spent together are long gone, drifting away like clouds in the breeze. Even though memories are often fleeting, all I need to do is close my eyes and your face appears, clear and forever young. Sun-kissed skin and lemon colored hair. Such unique eyes.

She was the only girl I didn't hate. But now I was—I left her. At first, I thought it was revenge. It had to be. Revenge against them for living better lives than me. It was revenge against my own cruel fate.

I wish I hadn't died yet. There's so much I want to say to you. I have to get home. I promised. I promised. . . I'd come home safe to see your smiling face. But now that might never be possible.

So at least, could I get one more shot? One more chance to make amends? One more chance to see you so I can say I'm sorry? Sorry for committing so many sins that I'll never reach the place you will. . . For not being able to keep my promise.

You know, there's a chance you might not meet anyone else. . . That you won't ever see another living human ever again. That this planet will become a world of ruins and wandering spirits. We will come back to avenge what we have lost. Those stolen memories and lives.

But once you've reached the end, it doesn't matter which route you took.

* * *

It had been about a month since he had died, and she'd moved through her weepy stage to just kind of sad all the time, with the occasional moments when I actually heard her laugh out loud, then stop, as if she'd forgotten she wasn't supposed to be happy.

He'd lived long enough to know that everyone handled grief in different ways, and little by little, we all seemed to accept our new lives without him. All except her.

For someone who was never meant for this world, I must confess I'm suddenly having a hard time accepting that he's left it. Of course, they say every atom in our bodies was once part of a star. Maybe he's not leaving. . . Maybe he's going home.

But I can't help but feel anger towards the fallen hero, because you don't get to do that; come into somebody's life, let them care, and then check out. It's unfair to us all. I often see her sitting there, on the little strand of beach, just staring out into the sea like she's waiting for him. Campers have given up trying to get her to come home.

I've tried several ways to get her to cope with this loss. I even tried telling her the tale of The Dancing Man. The story began with a man dancing on the hill. Men and women all around him began to laugh. They didn't know what he was doing. They thought it was ridiculous. But then another man joined him. And then another. And then one more. Soon half of the picnickers sitting atop the hill were smiling and laughing and having a wonderful time. Eventually though, the dancing man crested the hill, walking into the sunset. He took a look back to where he had come and what he saw was good. People were still dancing, having fun, they were all on their feet now, their troubles forgotten. He shouldered his back pack and turned his face into the setting sun, a smile cracked across his face and he nodded to himself, with a flourish he turned again to the crowd, they cheered at him, "My work here is done" he said, and set off to dance across the world.

I told her this because it reminded me of him. His personality and who he is. The dancing man and the hero can relate; they see to it that everyone is satisfied before them. And I told her that for him to be happy and accept where he is now, she must be happy first. But this story only made the girl with sun-kissed skin and lemon colored hair with unique eyes sob.

She's as dead as he.

* * *

**Remorse**

Day after day, face upon nameless face on city sidewalks sick with a thousand dreams praying for asphalt waves of brackish blue-grey joy to wash us anywhere from here, I sit in the tiny apartment and stare at the girl staring back at me in the glass. Her belly is bulging, obvious that whoever may be inside is ready to come out. And I have never been so scared in my life. We don't know what this little being will be yet. We wanted it to be a surprise. We were both so happy when we found out, but I guess I didn't make it as blatantly obvious about just how terrified I was—am.

I have no idea how to be a parent. Sometimes I wonder if this was even the right time. We're still young; twenty-three. I'm scared of not being able to raise it, or if I can, how it will turn out to be when it's older. Sometimes I lay awake at night and ask, _Where have I gone wrong?_ Then a voice says back to me, _This is going to take more than one night._ And I feel so guilty, because what if the stress of it all just eats me away and I just give up? I'm still in this long and confusing process of figuring out who _I_ am and _I _want to do in my life. I may not get to do much, considering who and what I am.

And so I'll tell the creature this: There may come a day when you'll curse being born into this world. You'll wonder what you did to deserve this. And you'll probably have plenty of bitter words to tell me. But. . . But I don't think I'll be around by then to listen to your complaints. I live a dangerous life.

I truly am sorry. But I want you to know this: No matter what, all we wanted was for you to be happy.

* * *

_So, I'm trying not to make this as desperate as I really am, but I really kind of need reviews on what you guys want to read because I don't know what to write. I need you guys!_


	8. Silver Wings, Parallel

**Silver Wings**

_Oof._

I've slipped. Of course I did; I'm climbing the wet, rocky terrains of earth. And it's late. Late at night, I no longer speak for effect. I speak the truth without the niceties. I am hundreds of years old but do not know how many hundreds. The person I was does not know me. The poets, with their reenactments of the senses, and my friends, who knew nothing but light and love, are asleep. I myself am asleep at the outer reaches. I've danced the skies on light feet, silver wings and I have lain down in the snow without stepping outside. I am immortal. I am frozen in time on the white page.

Then it happens, a spark somewhere, a light through the ice. The snow melts; there appear fields threaded with grain. Sunward I climb, and join the roaring laughter of sun-split clouds and do a hundred things you have never dreamed of: Whirled and roared and sung high on the hill in the morning silence. The blue moon, blue sky returns, that heralded night. Up, up the long burning blue, I've topped the wind-swept heights with grace, where never a bird or even eagle flew.

How earthly the convenience of the time. I am possible. I have in me the last unanswered question. Yes, there are walls, and water stains on the ceiling. Yes, there is energy running through the wires. And yes, I grow colder as I write of the sun rising. This is not the story, the skin paling and a body folded over a table.

I miss you. Not in some cheesy, let's hold hands together forever way. I just miss you. Plain and simple. I miss your presence in my life. I miss you always being there for me. I miss my best friend. But you've been long gone and I've been long since happy. I tried to believe in fairy tale endings the way you believed in me, but I'm tired.

If I die here they will say I died writing. Never mind the long day that now shrinks backward. I crumple the light and toss it into the wastebasket. I pull the moon—my master—down and place it in a drawer. On the high, untrespassed sanctuary of space, a bitter wind of new winter drags the dew eastward. And as I dig in my heels, I reach out my hands and touch the sky's face.

* * *

**Parallel**

Percy—

Hey, so I was walking today and spring is spiraling in green everything. It was mid-afternoon, maybe around 1-ish. I saw this man playing Frisbee with his dog and remembered the day we took Mrs. O'Leary, straining against her leash barking at the squirrels, down to that field near your old cabin on Long Island. It was all sunshine—yellow lemonade, sweet and sour sunshine. We threw the bone around for hours and collapsed on the spring grass in a fit of giggles. You held my hand and it was _good._

But I'm getting off track. That man and his dog weren't important. What I meant to say was at 2:30 this afternoon I ran into Chris Rodriguez at Home Depot. He's an air condition repairman now. He just bought a house with Clarisse, in case you were wondering (aren't we all getting so old?).

I remembered that time you threw a party back in high school when Chiron and Mr. D were gone for the night. It was around the time when I still hated your friend, Rachel (but before I liked her more than you). Chris came with his reassuring brown hair and constant chatter. I started to feel comfortable, so you snuck into one of Mr. D's wine cabinets and made me take a sip or two. I spent the evening pretending to be an artist, drawing a Celtic Cross on Chris' arm. The red pen exploded and made a mess all over the new carpet your mother gave you. Chiron was so angry, lecturing in that haughty low-pitched _I'm-so-much-better-than-you-because-I-am-an-immort al-horse-man _kind of tone threatening to take away your sword (like that was the most normal thing you could say) and maybe even taking away your privileges of training the newbies even though we tried to clean it up but you held my hand and it was _good._

There I go getting off track again. It's just these memories have been attacking me but I don't miss you because I keep remembering that night I stayed at your house and I got the phone call from my stepmom telling me that my dad had died. I stared vacantly at the TV, clinging to each episode of _Futurama_ wishing my life hadn't just changed forever (which may or may not be an understatement considering who I am). You couldn't stay awake with me, couldn't calm or assure me because you had work the next morning and _absolutely could not take the day off. _ And I remember every weekend you partied with your friends while I stayed home and cried because I was so desperately afraid of becoming an alcoholic and I wasn't ready to see my father again so soon (I still worry sometimes, but anyway...) You wouldn't hold my hand anymore. You wouldn't understand. You told me you only loved me 70% of the time (and the rest of the time you hated me).

It wasn't good anymore, but none of this is important. The real reason behind this letter is around 6:30 pm, I was stumbling on the Internet and found an article telling me that Brandon Sanderson is writing the next installment in _The_ _Wheel of Time_ series. I don't know who he is but he's not Robert Jordan, so I think it's going to ruin _everything._ I just thought I should let you know since you're getting that "Don't Panic!" tattoo on your back and I know how much you loved those books. Anyway, sorry about bringing up all of the pointless nostalgia. I am _much_ happier without you.

Hope the cats and the new girlfriend are doing well.

—Annabeth

* * *

_Whew. So, I really appreciate everyone who as Reviewed, Favorited, or Followed. Seriously, coming home from a long day at school and opening up my email to find "Fanfiction: [New Review]" makes my heart soar. And, don't get me wrong, for those of you who have given me suggestions and asked me to write this or that, I really do love you. But you have to understand how _difficult _that is for me. Especially when y'all are all upset because I write sad things when you want happy things. That's just _me. _I _have_ tried. But I'm for some reason immune to happiness. _

_Anyway, thanks for reading. If you liked, please Review, Favorite or Follow._


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